


The Dark Wood of Ascendence

by TheLastNero



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Anal Sex, Angels, Deal with a Devil, Demon Summoning, Demons, Fluff, Frottage, Humor, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Mind Control, Misunderstandings, Rituals, Sex in the woods, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastNero/pseuds/TheLastNero
Summary: He knew he shouldn't have been doing this, his mind was screaming against his body to just stop , but his legs kept carrying him, his mind its unwilling passenger.Hedwig kept barking louder and louder and it seemed as if for a moment she realised what was happening and pulled her owner back at the last moment.It was too late.He'd reached the center by a will that was not his own. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his shoes and the dead grass burned beneath his feet like he was standing on asphalt. Hedwig yipped, her little paws jumping to avoid the ground, but Harry stood firm.His feet sweltered and the flames ran up his body. He was burning, but he could not move--He felt like he was melting by the time the clouds thundered and rain began pouring. Harry would have taken a deep breath if his body allowed him, but his body was still paralyzed. The wet raindrops cooled his skin as Hedwig quieted down.The relief was cold ecstasy, until a bolt of lightning struck down into the center of the clearing.





	The Dark Wood of Ascendence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angel_of_Mysteries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_of_Mysteries/gifts).



Harry had been minding his own business. He was a good kid like that-- never got into trouble (unless the situation called for it-- thanks, Dad), never got into fights (ditto), was polite to his superiors (except for his dreadful chemistry teacher, Mr. Snape), and was always described as ‘absolutely charming’ by his peers (usually followed by a ‘in a rambunctious sort of way’). Sure, he’d just been dumped by his girlfriend and his football team had just had their arses handed to them, but he was doing just fine. These were the golden years of his life after all-- Mr. Snape had always said life was all downhill from there for types like Harry. 

He'd been taking his dog, Hedwig, for a walk in the woods when it happened. She was always so well-behaved, it came as a surprise when suddenly she veered away from the trail they had taken for months, barking and growling. 

"Hedwig?"

Her ears fluttered like the butterfly her breed was named for. She pulled on her leash, brown eyes peeking back up at Harry. Her whine was unsettling in the quiet of the crisp autumn air.

Harry sighed and conceded. "Alright. Where do you want to go?"

Hedwig let out a yip and pulled Harry along as she ran through the dead foliage towards her destination. His trainers crunched on the leaves as he ran to keep up with her. She stopped, brush entangled in her long hair. 

They stopped in a clearing beneath the trees. 

Nothing seemed to grow in this clearing; dirt laid barren, grass dead on the edges where the trees met the circle, where no life seemed to be able to grow and not even a stump appeared to indicate anything had  _ ever _ grown there.

The urge to run grasped him-- to run towards the center of the clearing, with its burnt lines of grass and aura of death.

He knew he shouldn't have been doing this, his mind was screaming against his body to just  _ stop _ , but his legs kept carrying him, his mind its unwilling passenger.

Hedwig kept barking louder and louder and it seemed as if for a moment she realised what was happening and pulled her owner back at the last moment.

It was too late.

He'd reached the center by a will that was not his own. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his shoes and the dead grass burned beneath his feet like he was standing on asphalt. Hedwig yipped, her little paws jumping to avoid the ground, but Harry stood firm.

His feet sweltered and the flames ran up his body. He was burning, but he could not move--

He felt like he was melting by the time the clouds thundered and rain began pouring. Harry would have taken a deep breath if his body allowed him, but his body was still paralyzed. The wet raindrops cooled his skin as Hedwig quieted down.

The relief was cold ecstasy, until a bolt of lightning struck down into the center of the clearing.

His momentary calm lifted as his vision blanked and he felt the blood in his veins electrify. A sound throbbed in his ears, pounding against his head. He opened his eyes slowly.

His skin was no longer wet nor scalding dry. Hedwig sat at his feet, her red leash still hanging from her neck, her eyes standing alert. The hair on her body stood on end, as though she had been just as thoroughly shocked as Harry, but she didn't seem to be in pain. She cocked her head at him.

Liquid brown eyes blinked up at Harry. The fine hairs present in every well-kept papillon were present on Hedwig, although hers were now dragging again the ground. Funny, he didn't remember her hair being  _ green _ \--

Except it wasn't hair. The texture was all wrong. Harry turned his head from Hedwig to his feet which also seemed to be covered by the same substance.

It was  _ grass-- _ crisp, clean, green grass. Nothing dry, dead, yellow-- it was alive. He looked up and found the whole field to be the same. Healthy, green grass spread from each corner of the clearing. The trees surrounding the circle looked healthier, even. The sheer amount of life was almost overwhelming and a warm, pleasantly tingling sensation cascaded over the teenager. It was euphoric.

Something sweet permeated throughout the air and Harry felt the urge to take a deep breath to just breathe it in. He thought he could hear the trickling of a stream somewhere off in the distance.

He was steered out of his reverie by Hedwig's barking once more. Glancing over, he found her turned towards one edge of the clearing. Her hair lifted from the ground, as on end as it had been when lightning had stricken.

A figure stood leaning against a tree, its arms crossed. An ethereal haze surrounded him and once Harry's eye had been drawn towards him, he couldn't look away. His skin seemed to almost glow, pale opalescence next to the lush life surrounding him. The stark contrast struck Harry as unnatural in its perfection.

Black hair framed his face and, if Harry had been vain, he would have compared it to his own. A sense of inferiority twinged at the back of his mind, thinking no, this stranger's hair was so smooth, the color more vibrant, everything about him so much more vivid.

Harry realised not only was he staring, but being stared back at as well.

Bright, otherworldly eyes framed by dark eyelashes met his. The face twisted into a smirk and the figure stepped forward from the tree line. Harry felt the urge to step back but still found he could not move, despite his change in surroundings.

_ This had to be a different place. But how could he have moved and where was he and how did he get there and who was this person-- _

"What is your name?"

Harry blinked up at the man. His voice had come through softly, as pulsing with energy as their surroundings.

"My name?" repeated Harry.

Hedwig nudged against his leg, her tail thumping against him. She whined.

The man across from him looked down at her and Harry felt strangely protective but still could not move to put more distance between them. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same?" he retaliated.

The man smirked. "I would not presume so. There will be only one thing you will be calling me now, as you are bound to my service. As such, I believe the term 'Master' will suffice."

"Excuse me?!" Harry raised his voice.

The man walked across the clearing toward him. Harry felt the urge to squirm away but found his feet still anchored to the ground. Hedwig could tug all she wanted on her leash but he could not move. The stranger took his time reaching Harry, as though testing his reaction to his enclosing presence. Once he had finally reached him, Harry had realised exactly how  _ tall _ he was.

He looked Harry up and down and tutted, circling the younger teenager. "I suppose I could," he sighed dramatically, "But already you have done so little to make up for the mistakes you have made.”

If Harry could run, could run as far away as possible, he would have in that very moment. A cold chill ran down his body. He gulped.

"Here I am, offering you a hand to hold as you take your first steps in an unfamiliar world. And what do you give me? Questions upon questions, disrespectful action after action. You are trying my patience." He took a step back. "Let us make a small deal. That is within your power, yes?" He raised an eyebrow amusedly. "Part of a name for part of a name. Does that sound adequate?"

_ Did he have much of a choice?  _ Harry took a deep breath. "I guess."

Instantly, warmth ran up and down his spine, and Harry shivered. He jerked upright as he realised he could now move his torso.

The man's eyes glinted as he smirked. "You will find you now have control over your upper body and arms. Enough so as to shake my hand."

Harry tested his hands first, discovering the newly found ease of which he could move his fingers. It felt as though he were dragging them through liquid, but compared to the stern stiffness from before, his movement felt fluid and light.

He slowly moved his entire arm and found it to be a similar case.

Harry was flexing his arm back and forth when he felt a hand lung to grasp his wrist. The heat nearly scorched his skin and he gasped.

Looking up, he met his captor's eyes that seemed to glow with an unspoken intensity. The hand on his wrist turned his hand so his palm faced outward and began tracing light lines across his skin.

"A name for a name..." he enunciated softly. His hand gripped Harry's firmly and the heat shot up the latter's wrist, up his arm, and into his chest.

It burned and he could barely get his intended words out of his mouth.

"A name for a name."

What felt like a fever flashed throughout his body, warm and heady, and for a moment, almost euphoric. It didn't last by the time the man let go of his hand.

"I am known as Lord Voldemort. I will grant you a special privilege, since you do not seem much experienced in this sort of endeavor, and allow you to simply call me "My Lord."

Harry's eyebrow twitched but he found his name spilling out of his mouth without any conscious thought on his part. "Harry."

Voldemort tested his name, rolling it across his tongue in that velvety smooth voice. "Harry...?" he prodded.

"Just Harry." The teenager gulped. He had an odd feeling as though he shouldn't say his entire name, as if... Well, this  _ 'Lord Voldemort' _ hadn't given him a first name. Why should Harry give him his last name?

"Hmm." Voldemort seemed disappointed and made a show of turning his back on Harry, his black, billowy clothes flowing along with him.

Come to think of it, he  _ was _ dressed awfully strange. Harry was reluctant to call it a dress, but couldn’t place another word more applicable.

Harry's eyes followed Voldemort curiously as he stepped towards the edge of the clearing once more. He turned on his heels, fabric swirling behind him.

"Now that we have been introduced, I believe it would be prudent to inform you of why you are here.” Harry could draw his attention away from the man no matter how hard he tried. Lord Voldemort made a dramatic gesture as though he was deeply contemplating his next words. “I have an extremely important task for you. Once this task has been accomplished, you shall be dismissed back to your own realm. Unless," he paused and met Harry's eyes. His face twitched before frowning. "Nevermind. I will give you your task and we will make another deal."

Harry blinked. "Are you just not going to give me any information about where I am? And why I am here, besides the fact that you apparently wanted me here?"

Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of all the demons I could have summoned, it is my fate that I call upon the most impudent, disrespectful little--"

"Hold on--  _ demon _ ?!"

The man raised an elegant eyebrow, his pale skin pulled taut against his high cheekbones. "That is what you are. Of all the things I called you, that is what you take most offense towards?"

Harry gaped at him. "I'm not a demon and I don't know what game you're playing, although-- something has to be going on and I wouldn't be surprised if you're the- the  _ demon _ here."

Voldemort didn't say a word. The quiet was unnerving and Harry instantly regretted saying the words he did.  _ Even if he was the demon, would he really take so kindly to me just calling him out-- Wait. Why am I thinking like this? _

A soft sound broke the silence. It was... a laugh?

Voldemort was laughing, ever so quietly. Harry had to listen hard and focus his mind on nothing else, but it was there.

The sound grew louder and louder, beginning softly before twisting into something completely deranged.

Voldemort would not stop laughing and Harry, unable to move his legs still, felt entirely uncomfortable.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," he said, a grin never leaving his face. At that very moment, that same grin looked like it could cut skin like shark teeth. "I will forgive your ignorance, for after what I am about to tell, you will never make the same mistake again. You see--" He swooped towards Harry in milliseconds with a wispy trail left behind him. "I am no demon. Quite the opposite, you will find. I am, after all, an angel." He tilted his head, letting his inky curls cascade down his face.

A pit burrowed its way into Harry's stomach. He took a deep breath.

"Why should I believe that?" he asked slowly. "You're already wrong about one thing-- If this is some kind of joke, this isn't funny."

Except something deep in his gut knew this couldn't be a joke, knew it was impossible for grass to grow in seconds, and the sunlight to be that warm and pleasant after a thunderstorm, and a body to be paralyzed without any precedent and for a person to be in one place so far away mere seconds before--

Voldemort tilted his head at Harry and smiled, his red eyes set unblinking on the boy. He took a step closer and reached out his hand in front of Harry.

Silvery swirls danced across his palm in a way that could be no ordinary trick of the light. Harry blinked rapidly. Whatever was in front of him, whatever Voldemort was doing, remained in plain sight.

"This is not a particularly impressive use of my powers, but from my understanding, they do not have anything similar on your plane of existence." He raised an eyebrow. "A shame, truly, but it is punishment for your nature, I suppose."

"Our... nature?"

Voldemort tutted and closed his fist, bringing it to rest beside him. He began circling Harry, who still to that moment remained standing. His legs were beginning to feel rather numb. "Ignorant of so much." He stopped behind Harry and pressed so close to him, he could feel the older man's breath on his ear. "Slave to your earthly desires, so much so, that it is child's play for another being to enslave your very life's essence itself."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine, despite the heat flooding his senses.

"I will tell you, this is as surprising to me as is it to you. I have never met one of your kind before," he drawled. "But I must say, you are not quite what I expected, considering the tales I have heard since I was young of demons. Trite propaganda, I do believe, is the cause of such misconceptions." He sighed, looking off into the distance.

Harry sputtered. "Can you stop calling me that. I'm...  _ human _ , not a demon." He glared at Voldemort, who gave no reaction besides the upturning of an eyebrow. "I have a normal life, I do normal things, I go to school, I have a family, and normal friends. No demon-worshipping whatsoever, alright? Okay, this one time, Luna tried to get me to tag along to some nature worship ritual she was doing, but I don't think that counts. She was Wiccan, not a Satan worshipper--"

Voldemort let out another dramatic sigh, running his long fingers through his hair. Harry squinted up and watched the movement annoyedly. "You do not understand."

"I don't. And frankly, you're pissing me off. I'm starting to think maybe you're the one that is misinformed here."

Hedwig let out a yip in assent.

Voldemort scoffed. "Impossible."

Harry raised both eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Since you're an 'angel'--" he quoted with his fingers-- "You're a-always right, I suppose. Explains why I was the opposite of what you were expecting quite well, doesn't it?"

The man behind him went silent and Harry could almost hear him simmering in anger.

Hedwig began growling and Voldemort gave out a displeased sound before stomping in front of Harry to face him once more.

His face was twisted in what Harry assumed was rage, but he found it more humorous than intimidating and had to hold in his laughter.

He failed and snickered, much to Lord Voldemort's growing displeasure.

The other man flushed, clenching his fists, and twisting his face into a sour expression. His words came harshly. “Your task will be the murder the one whose true name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Do this,” he spat. “And you will be allowed to return to your pathetic little realm, if you still so desire.”

Harry’s mind blanked. 

Lord Voldemort stood firm in front of him, holding hands behind his back, looking at Harry expectantly.

“You want  _ me-- _ ” Harry pointed to himself-- “To kill someone? Me?”

Voldemort grit his teeth. “Yes.”

The teenager blinked before breaking out in laughter once more. Tears ran down his face, his upper half shaking and convulsing in contrast to his still paralyzed lower half. Hedwig wagged her tail and batted it against Harry’s leg in time with his laughs.

“Stop that at once!” Voldemort demanded, his red eyes glaring. “This is not a laughing matter, for you or your target.”

Harry controlled his breathing and calmed down, slowly. He exhaled a long breath in an attempt to soothe his racing heartbeat. He snorted a bit as he began to speak once more. “I’m not killing anyone. Never have, never will, no matter how much I want to get home. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to just let me go.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I did not go through such pains to assemble this ritual to simply let you go,” Voldemort bit. “You will perform your duty. By the archangels, you are more incompetent than any of my other servants combined.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Okay, first off, I’m not your servant. Second of all, isn’t it kind of hypocritical a self-proclaimed ‘angel’ is trying to kill off another person? Aren’t you guys supposed to be the epitome of good and all that? Third,  _ why can’t you just do it yourself _ ?”

Lord Voldemort huffed and stood further upright, straightening his back. “You do not understand the laws of angel-kind. To be expected of a being from your plane,” he sneered. “Angels are… unable to commit any sin. To do such would be blasphemy, a disgrace-- such a person would have their wings ripped straight from their back.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see any wings.”

“I do not have to accommodate your every curiosity, Harry,” came the older man’s clipped response.

“Well, you’ve been doing a pretty good job so far, why stop?” Harry blinked up at Voldemort tauntingly. “Still though. Aren’t there laws and stuff preventing you from I don’t know… asking other people to kill the person you want?”

Voldemort scowled. “Indeed. However, you are not a person--”

“But I am--”

“Not here, you are not. If anything, the archangels would attempt to conceal your presence at all costs, if you were to be discovered. They would have nothing of which to convict me, lest they disrupt the status quo,” he drawled. “And believe me when I say they will do anything to maintain that status.”

“Well, that’s dumb.”

“Hmph.” Voldemort smirked. “I am most pleased you see it my way-- the correct way.” He looked off into the distance, through the lush foliage of the forest lighted by the setting sun. The gold peeked through the leaves, tinting the greens and browns of the wood to look almost black.

Harry made an indignant sound. “I don’t see how killing people is ‘correct’.”

“It is a necessary step towards the reformation our society--” Voldemort sighed-- “A society plagued by injustice and hypocrisy and corruption and political dances that have no purpose other than to trip those most unfortunate souls.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Harry interrupted. “But still, do you really have to kill people? Isn’t this, what, heaven or something? Isn’t it supposed to be perfect and all that?”

Voldemort glared. “I wouldn’t expect you to under--”

“Understand, right. Because I’m a demon?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Quite evidently so,” Voldemort quipped.

Harry humphed and crossed his arms in defiance. “Well, whatever you think, I’m not doing it.” 

Hedwig nudged against his leg. Harry looked down at his faithful papillon, almost having forgotten she was there.

“And especially not in front of Hedwig.”

She whined, nudging against his leg again.

Harry peered down at her curiously. “Is something wrong, girl?”

Her whines continued and while Harry turned his head to look around the clearing, he couldn’t see anything amiss. Well, besides the fact that he still couldn’t move his legs and a tall supposed angel with the personality of a demon was still looming over him.

Said angel was currently searching the area just as intently as he, if not moreso. He grimaced with a tensed exhale. A silence took hold of the evening as he stood still with that sour expression on his face, clenching his fists by his side. No thoughts made themselves known on his face, but Harry could only assume he was deep in thought about something. Of what, he could only guess.

Voldemort suddenly broke the stillness and stalked from his position in front of Harry to one end of the clearing.

“What are you doing?” the teenager asked slowly. 

“Someone is near,” Lord Voldemort hissed. “ _ Do. Not. Move. _ Under any circumstances.”

“That’s hilarious--”

Harry was cut off with a glare and shut his mouth. 

Voldemort reached the trees, appearing to be just another shadow in the golden light of the setting sun. Harry couldn’t make out what he was doing until he saw a flash of silvery light peek out of the darkness of the shadows. Voldemort’s own shadow moved to another section of the trees on the outskirts of the clearing to repeat the same action. He repeated it three more times before Harry called out.

Or at least tried to. With the last flourish of light, his throat clenched and his stomach lurched as he fell to the ground. Silken waves of light fell over him and it felt as though he’d been dipped in ice cold water. He thought, if he could see himself, he would most resemble a fish gasping for water on a dock.

His vision clouded until all he could see was swirls of silver and white. His body lifted, by what, he could not determine the source of. The touch was firm, yet featherlight, guiding yet unrestricting. Time seemed to slow for a moment, an ethereal haze around him. He could acknowledge his body was moving, yes, but where?

He blinked his eyes, realising he had lost his glasses, but the haze was more than he had ever experienced before. Clarity gradually returned to him, restoring his vision to the point he was used to seeing whilst his glasses were missing, but his surroundings did not seem to speed up. He was moving so  _ slow _ , he could stare for  _ minutes _ , perhaps  _ hours _ , at the shadowed branches of the trees overhead, the reds and oranges of the sky, the silver-feathered wings slowly falling and rising--

Three words repeated in his head, the same smooth, forceful tone from before. 

_ Do. Not. Move. _

_ Do. Not. Move. _

_ Do. Not. Move. _

_ Do. Not. Move. _

_ Do. Not. Move. _

Once, twice, thrice, four, five times the wings flapped, pushing the air across their feathers with each motion. Harry kept time with that image in his mind, as the minutes in between each flap grew shorter, until only seconds remained and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of air whooshing like it was being whipped around him.

He drew a long, shaky breath.

Despite his now clear vision, an overwhelming sense of fuzziness washed over him, wave after wave, as if he was floating in a warm bath of silk. The treetops and the wings above him seemed farther away now, so far that when he reached out his hand, he only touched air.

His face was flushed, he could feel it, and his clothes felt hot against his skin. The world had tilted on its axis and Harry was set down to the ground gently.

The shadow above him disappeared and for a moment all was still.

He could hear the blood throbbing in his veins and his heart slow, his back pressed against the downy grass of the the woods that had been surrounding the clearing.

Each blade of grass pressed against his clothes, his arms, and his barefeet, each ledge caressing his body, almost as though they were cradling him. The sensation felt overwhelming and, in the fuzz of his mind, it felt like he was being held.

The sounds of his heart beating and his lungs breathing quieted as the sound of rustling grass overcame them. The sight in front of Harry did not change as he laid in the grass.  _ He would not move. _

A whisper whisked through the air, as loud as a scream to Harry’s sensitive ears.

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

He couldn't bring himself to change his rate of breathing or give any indication of his existence.

“I prefer you not call me that anymore. As for my purpose here, I came to think.”

That voice… It belonged to the man who claimed his name was Lord Voldemort. Harry could recognise that smooth, silken tone anywhere.

A silence followed.

The second voice began slowly again. “Be wary, my boy. Thinking leads to all sorts of thoughts, you know.”

“I am aware. Now-- would you please allow me time for myself?”

A sigh was heard, presumably from the other man.

“Do not do something you will regret, Tom.”

“An eternal life without regret is a life wasted, Albus.”

The quiet rustle of movement through the grass followed by the flapping of wings resonated in the air. The tree branches that hung over Harry parted with the force of something pushing through them but nothing appeared.

A firm hand placed itself on his shoulder moments later. 

“He is gone.”

Harry’s eyes flicked towards the source of the voice but the rest of his body remained still. Voldemort loomed over him, nearly a shadow in the night.

The bottom of his robes-- that’s what they were-- brushed against Harry’s feet and a pale, bare foot reached out to nudge his.

“Are you conscious?” he asked. Harry could barely make out his face, the blurry shape of something dark raising and lowering on his forehead. 

Harry blinked several times in response.

The man above him snickered. “I almost forget. You can’t move anymore, can you?” He crouched down to Harry’s level and the boy could barely make out the details of his face. Red eyes looked hungrily across his prone body. “You are doing a very good job of following your orders,” his voice lilted tauntingly.

Harry flushed from the proximity of the man near him, mind still lethargic from before. He couldn't bring himself to reply or make any movement, somehow content to just lie there. 

“If you had displayed  _ this  _ level of compliance earlier, you might have been on your way home now,” Voldemort drawled. “Alas, your stubbornness became your own downfall. Tsk tsk, Harry. And I went through all that effort to summon you, even hiding your existence from that barmy old man to protect you out of the goodness of my heart.” 

A finger traced along the underside of Harry’s chin, bringing his face up to look directly at its owner. His chest rose with the deep intake of breath he inhaled.

“You have become quite the nuisance for me. The exact opposite of what I had hoped you would be.”

Heat flushed across his cheeks subconsciously and he had to blink rapidly to clear his vision. Those red eyes kept staring down at him.

The voice of Voldemort-- Tom-- gradually became softer. 

“And yet you have offered me nothing in return for all this effort.”

Harry’s clothes suddenly felt itchy and the odd urge to just strip nude encompassed him.

_ The grass looks so cool and soft under the moon, _ he thought.  _ I wouldn't be too cold with Lord Voldemort on top of m-- _

He broke himself out of that train of thought, pulling himself out of the hazy veil that had fallen over his consciousness. _ What was he thinking? _

Voldemort grinned from his position about him. “Awake now, are you? I was wondering how long it would take you.”

Harry tried his hardest to squirm, to speak, to  _ anything _ , but found his endeavor as hopeless as before. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the corners of his mouth downturn ever so slightly.

“Pouting, are we?” 

Within seconds he was pulled into the other man’s lap, held up only by Tom’s hands or else he would surely fall and be unable to catch himself.

“Now that I think about it, I suppose there is a way you can repay for so  _ generously  _ aiding you in your time of need,” Tom spoke lowly, his eyes looking deep into Harry’s.

Harry willed himself to not get flustered but found his whole body heating up instead. He began focussing his energy to try to make some sort of movement. He couldn’t be completely helpless--

His concentration was broken when he suddenly found himself falling forward, a pair of lips attached to his neck. He expected to hit the ground but landed instead on a hard body. If he had been able to make any sound at all, he would have let out a gasp.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder as those lips dragged from neck to ear, breathing hot kisses wherever they trailed. 

“And you are quite lucky that I am perfectly willing to accept that deal,” Tom whispered.

Harry gasped and felt his back arch automatically, to his surprise, simultaneously pushing his lower half against the man below him.

_ He could move. _

Or at least  _ could have _ if a strong arm hadn’t snaked its way around his waist, holding him firmly in place. Tom’s lips detached themselves from his ear to crash onto Harry’s own lips harshly. The younger man let out an  _ mmph  _ as the older’s lips plied apart his to run a tongue across his mouth. Tom’s hands dropped from his waist to his hips, pulling down on Harry to grind against him.

Harry gasped, an opportunity of which Tom took most advantage of, thrusting his tongue against Harry’s own. The younger man couldn’t think whatsoever, mind going as numbly fuzzy as it had been before, albeit he hadn’t felt like his skin was on absolute fire and that every touch, light or firm alike,  _ burned,  _ but he couldn’t help leaning into every single graze of skin against his own.

His clothes felt restrictive and his first thought was to just tear them off at that very moment, logic be damned, because all he needed was  _ more _ . 

Tom must have either been psychic or simply responsible for those lewd thoughts himself, smirking as he withdrew from Harry’s lips. 

“Quite eager to pay off your debt, I see,” he whispered, gaze penetrating Harry’s, leaving him shivering despite the warmth of his flesh. 

“I--”

“You look awfully…  _ hot _ ,” Tom breathed against his ear. “Perhaps shedding your clothes would temper this excruciating  _ heat _ .”

Harry drew in a long breath but couldn’t bring himself to disagree. “Maybe--”

The instant the word left his mouth, their clothes had disappeared, leaving them utterly naked, bodies flushed against one another.

Harry’s cheeks burned even worse that the flush tint of his tan skin that now lied completely bare before the man that had summoned him into that strange world in the first place.

Tom groped his hands across Harry’s chest, running across his nipples, before plunging one hand down in a fluid motion to land on his cock. 

It was only a glance, a grazing motion, before the hand trailed across his leg and his abdomen before returning back up to Harry’s shoulder. A wicked gleam sparked in Tom’s eyes before he grasped both of Harry’s shoulders and flipped their positions. Tom’s weight pressed heavy against Harry who felt as though his mobility may now have been just as limited as it was when he was ensnared previously by Tom’s command.

He squirmed but the body atop of his held fast as Tom swooped in for another open-mouthed kiss. The friction of his movement turned out more arousing than anything and he realised numbly that he was painfully hard. The tongue rubbing against his own caused the heat from his face to spread all across his body, as bad as the worshipful hands now running across him. A press of hips against his revealed his partner to be just as impassioned.

The heat of sweaty skin against skin further inflamed his desire as he kissed back into the mouth atop his. 

He didn’t question when one of Tom’s hands trailed across his chest and abdomen, around to grasp his ass, before hooking behind his knee and pushing it to lie against his chest. Even as a somehow wet finger circled his rim, his mind remained too high on the heat of the moment to think of what was happening and how, in normal circumstances, that very action should have been slightly more uncomfortable than it actually was.

The finger thrust deep, his walls clenching snugly against the foreign object. Tom broke their kiss and Harry let out a shaky breath, the finger’s rhythm nearly matching his erratic heartbeat. 

Tom added another finger within a few seconds, and eventually, a third, scissoring back and forth to stretch Harry’s opening for what was to come. His cock lied hard and upright against his abdomen, precum smeared from their previous activities.

A few words were whispered by Tom and Harry felt a cool wave wash over him, his hole relaxing simultaneously, despite the three fingers still inside him.

The fingers withdrew, leaving Harry gasping and his body clenching for more.

“Tom,” he breathed. 

The older man raised an eyebrows at the name, but didn’t say anything. He leant over him, balancing on one arm as he stroked his cock, before bending down and nipping at Harry’s neck.

Harry felt the tip of Tom’s cock nudge against his entrance, slowly but surely sliding in. He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding, exhaling as he felt himself filled.

He was so  _ full _ . If he had ever imagined doing this before, he would have assumed there would be more pain, or at least discomfort, involved, but all he could feel was heat and anticipation and--

Tom was completely inside him. He had no idea why this felt so intimate, this strange encounter with this otherworldly being who, while claiming to be an angel, seemed to have no sense of morals, but had the unnerving ability to make him feel so  _ flustered  _ and so  _ good  _ all at the same time--

The thick cock inside him slowly withdrew, dragging along the inside of his walls, and the sensation left Harry’s body quivering for its return. Tom thrust back inside of him quicker than he had withdrawn, rubbing against a spot that made Harry gasp in pleasure. Tom moaned in response and repeated the action.

His body flush against Harry’s, he picked up the pace, thrusting his cock in and out, brushing against that same point, forcing Harry’s body to reel over the sensation. Harry gripped Tom’s hips, watching the back and forth motion of the man currently fucking him. He trailed his hands down to grope Tom’s ass momentarily before returning to his previous position.

A hand not his own reached down to grasp his own cock, leaking as it was, to both his relief and surprise. The sensation of those fingers wrapped around him, stroking in time with Tom’s thrusts, with the deep, full sensation of being fucked, and the overwhelming pleasure of Tom hitting  _ right there  _ was enough to send him over the edge.

Tom smirked a lecherous grin before leaning down to kiss against Harry’s ear. “Come for me,” his slightly shaky voice urged.

His hand kept its pace on Harry’s cock while simultaneously chasing his own orgasm, fucking Harry so hard that his body was now sliding against the dewy grass with the force of Tom’s thrusts. 

Harry’s entire body tensed before the pleasure became too overwhelming and his climax overtook him. Tom quickened his pace, removing his now come-stained hand from Harry’s cock, pistoning into his lover’s arse.

“Harry,” he moaned, grasping his hips with his nails so hard, he could have broken skin. Harry, euphoric from his orgasm, couldn’t have paid any less attention to the pain while Tom was still thrusting inside of him. 

The slap of sweaty skin against skin, Tom’s moans, and Harry’s labored breathing sounded throughout the woods, until Tom came with a deep exhale of breath, shooting his come deep inside Harry. He laid on top of his lover for a few moments before rolling off, still keeping close. Their sweaty skin attempted to cling to one another, Harry’s semen spread across both of their lower halves.

The sound of their heavy breathing slowed, resuming a much more normal pace. Harry glanced over to Tom, whose pale skin was currently bathed in the moonlight peeking through the tops of the trees. Thick eyelashes framed his currently closed eyes, until they opened, as if sensing another’s meeting his. Their deep scarlet no longer seemed unsettling but the sheer definition of desire under the night sky.

Harry let out a shaky laugh.

Tom exhaled through his nose in response. “You have surprised me yet again, in the short span of time we have known one another.”

“Oh?” Harry chuckled breathily. “How so?”

“You have done more than fulfill your part of our deal. I am afraid your debt has been repaid--” He raised an eyebrow-- “Demon.”

Harry snickered. “Somehow, I feel like that’s not how this is supposed to go.”

“Well, I suppose there are…  _ benefits  _ to things not going exactly as they planned.”


End file.
